


Family

by littlemisscurious



Series: Tom, Louise and Maggie [24]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Cancer, Comfort, Family, Gen, Hurt, SIDS, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was originally a prompt for the 3 Paragraph Writing Meme. However, once I started writing, I felt that three paragraphs are not enough to do it justice so it turned out to become an entire one shot, which I hope is okay for the lovely anon who submitted it to me :)<br/>This one shot is set partly before and partly after the events of First Time / Date Night / I Love You, Dad!</p><p>Prompt:<br/>Anonymous asked w-is-for-writing:<br/>Tom/Louise/Maggie or just Tom/Maggie (whichever works best for the situation).<br/>"You had an older sister, darling, but she passed away."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I love you, Dad!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/752201) by [littlemisscurious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious). 



> Warnings: This one shot deals not only with SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrom) but also with Stage-IV Cancer. I am aware that these are very difficult topics and I have tried to write about them as tactfully and tastefully as possible, as I know (at least concerning the latter one) how difficult it is for those affected. However, if you have any issues with my portrayal of it, please do not hesitate to send me a message. The last thing I try to achieve is hurting anyone.

_“You had an older sister, darling, but she passed away.”_

I can still remember that day, the day, when I truly started to understand what this sentence meant, not necessarily for myself but for my parents and for our family.

Of course, I had always been aware of the photo in my Dad’s wallet, the one of the baby girl that wasn’t me, just as I had always been aware that on my birthday they would buy two bouquets of flowers, one for me and one for her.

But it was not until that day - that sunny day in March, just a few months before she left us - that I truly started to understand what it meant.

What I meant to them. And what we meant to her.

 

_“Maggie, are you ready? I want to leave now!” It is the 7th of March, Mother’s Day, and we spent the entire previous day in the kitchen, making a cake for Mum. It isn’t the first Mother’s Day we don’t spend at home because we have celebrated a few while she was on tour or even with Daddy on set. But it is her first Mother’s Day in hospital._

_Smoothing down the fabric of my skirt once more, I leave my room and skip down the stairs where Dad is waiting for me. “Have you got the cake, Dad?,” I ask, slipping into my shoes before he helps me into my coat. “Yes, it’s in the car together with the flowers and your present. Anything else you want to bring?” I shake my head and take his hand, squeezing it gently._

_He looks tired. Actually, he looks tired all the time now. Ever since Mum was admitted to hospital and especially since we were told that...that she would probably not leave it ever again._

_It makes me sad to see her like this, so fragile and tired and pale. All her hair is gone, her beautiful long curls that I loved so much. But she has shaved them off herself before they were able to fall out. And she has donated them to a charity that makes wigs for children with cancer out of it._

_My mum’s got cancer. But she doesn’t have a wig._

_Sometimes she puts a scarf around her head but most of the time she doesn’t. She is still beautiful, though. She’s the most beautiful Mum you can imagine. Dad also thinks she’s still beautiful. He always does._

_He loves her a lot._

_Which is why he is so tired. He doesn’t sleep very well and he cries often when he thinks I cannot hear it. I think he is afraid. Just like me._

 

It was a beautiful and sunny day back then. The sun was shining brightly from the sky and London’s streets were throbbing with life. The drive to the hospital was just like all the other times, past the same houses, along the same streets, onto the same parking lot. Dad was quiet during the ride and I knew better than to talk to him. But then again, I didn’t have anything to talk about.

Although, maybe I had but I didn’t know how to talk to him about it or to Mum. It was one of those topics that you’d like to address but you’re afraid of upsetting people so you keep quiet and lock these questions up in your mind where they wander and grow and spread until they’ve become so big and unbearable that you feel your head might explode if you don’t finally say something. That day I felt that way. So I decided to ask.

 

_“I think we should all have a second piece of cake,” Mum smiles, looking at me lovingly. “Thank you so much, darling. It’s so delicious. And the flowers are beautiful.” She looks at them again, standing in a vase on her bedside table, and she carefully touches one of the petals. I smile widely, proud at making her smile, making her happy, if only for that moment until we had to leave her alone again. For a moment I wonder if it’s the right moment to ask but then you never know, right?_

_“Mummy? Daddy? You know that photo on the mantelpiece in the living room. The one of you and that baby in the yellow nursery. Who is that? Because in all the other photos my nursery wasn’t yellow.” I look at them, expectantly, but also worried that I might have said something that I shouldn’t have said. Gently, Daddy takes her hand and she nods ever so slightly before he speaks._

_“You had an older sister, darling, but she passed away,” he says quietly and I continue to look at him, unsure of how I’m supposed to react. “About 17 years ago, the year we got married, we found out that your Mum was pregnant. We were over the moon about the news especially because a little while before she had had an ectopic pregnancy, which means that the baby grew in a place in the tummy where it didn’t have enough room and it was quite dangerous for your Mum and in the end the baby died just a few weeks into the pregnancy,” he explains and I nod, although I’m still not any wiser about the baby in the photo._

_However, Mum continues his story. “So a few months after we got married, we had a baby, a girl. Her name was Sophie and she had a yellow nursery. Sophie is the baby in the photo, darling,” she says and again, I nod. “She was a beautiful little girl and we were so happy to have her,” she smiles, a hint of sadness in her voice, though. “We adored her and spent every waking moment with her but one day, one morning, we went into her nursery and…” I can see tears in my parents eyes and I feel bad because I think that maybe I am the reason they are crying now. But when my Dad opens his arms for me, I quickly crawl onto his lap and he holds me close, which calms me down. “Your sister had fallen asleep forever, Maggie. During the night, her little heart had stopped beating, just like that, and she had gone to heaven, to your grandmother.” “And Uncle Matthew,” I add, and Mummy nods. “Yes, and Uncle Matthew, although he wasn’t in heaven then, he went to heaven two years later.”_

 

It took me a little to realise what day it was that she passed away.

 

_“Did she die on my birthday, Daddy?,” I ask in a whisper, and he nods, before adding, “Actually, you were born on the sixth anniversary of her death. Which is why this day is so very, very special to us. Because on this day, not only did God take away our little baby girl Sophie but a few years later, we were given another beautiful girl and that was you, Maggie. You have made us so incredibly happy that day. You were so gorgeous and so curious and so lovely and well-behaved.” I smile as he says that because Mummy smiles, too. I love it when she smiles. “You know, your Mum and I, we were really sad when Sophie died and we didn’t know if we could ever be really happy again. But then you came along and believe me, my darling, you’ve made us really, really happy.” He presses a gentle kiss on my head and Mum does the same even though I can still see a few tears in both their eyes._

_For a moment I think about what they’ve just told me. I’m sad that I never met her. Maybe we could have played together and we could have shared a room and we could have made a cake for Mum together. But now it’s just me and Dad making the cake._  
 _“I’ve got another question, though,” I mumble after a little while, still on Daddy’s lap, my legs resting over my Mum’s. “Yes, darling?,” she smiles at me, stroking over my ankles. “When you leave us, Mummy, who will make sure that we are happy again?,” I mumble before a quiet, almost inaudible sob leaves my Dad’s mouth. “You will, my love. The two of you will make sure that you are happy again because you’ve still got each other and you will look out for each other while Sophie and Uncle Matthew and Granny Emily and I watch over you from heaven.”_

 

I think, looking back at it, this was the first time I really understood what it meant that my Mum was in hospital. What it meant that her hair was gone and her body looked thinner and her skin paler. But I also started to understand why Sophie’s death made it easier for my Mum to go. She didn’t want to die. Not then, not at such a young age. But she knew that we would be okay again, Dad and I. Because she had been there, together with him, and they were happy again, because of me.

Although,...I don’t think Dad ever was happy again after she passed away. Not really, truly happy at least. He still carries her shadow around with him, their past, their love, their memories. But that’s okay. And I help him to carry it, I always will, as long as we both shall live. Because death is not only about loss, it’s also about love and trust. And neither of these cease to exist when a loved one passes away, but they get stronger with every day, every moment spent together with those that are left behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit my tumblr page http://w-is-for-writing.tumblr.com to find out more about my stories, my characters, and everything else you might be interested in :)


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